


Quench

by Chantress



Series: And Yet Here We Are [10]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Bad Puns, Companionable Snark, F/M, Feelings, First Kiss, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Ships It, Love Bites, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Topping from the Bottom, Vaginal Sex, WHY WOULD ANYONE EVEN MAKE THIS PIE: Witcher Edition, banter as foreplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:41:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23358691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chantress/pseuds/Chantress
Summary: It was bound to happen eventually. Yennefer just wasn't counting on there being this many fuckingfeelingsinvolved when it did.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: And Yet Here We Are [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1614133
Comments: 23
Kudos: 244





	Quench

"How do you know it's sweet?"

Jaskier blinks up at Yennefer. "Beg pardon?"

"How do you know it's sweet?" Yennefer repeats, sitting down next to him on the fallen log near their campfire.

"...Did I somehow black out and miss the last ten minutes of this conversation? Because otherwise I have no clue what you're talking about, sorry."

"That song you wrote about me. Rather lazy of you to call it 'Her Sweet Kiss' when you've never tasted it for yourself. Downright _cliched_ even, especially when you're always going on about your music being 'a vessel for a higher truth' and all that other bullshit."

"Yes, well, it's not like I could have just walked up to you, said 'Do you mind? It's for a song,' and planted one on you, is it? There's suffering for one's art, and then there's having one's insides ripped out through one's nostrils. Besides, creative license is a thing!"

"And here I thought you just couldn't get the lyrics to scan properly otherwise."

"...Shut up."

Yennefer laughs and eases herself a little closer to Jaskier. "So how about it?"

"How about what?"

"You're the one who keeps harping on the value of 'scientific research.' Besides, Geralt won't be back for hours, and we need to do _something_ to fill the time productively."

Jaskier stares at her. "Sorry, are you... maybe I hit my head on something and have completely lost my senses, but I could have sworn you just offered to kiss me."

"Don't be tiresome. I am, in fact, allowing _you_ to kiss _me_."

"Wow, splitting hairs a bit, aren't we?"

"If you're not interested..." Yennefer moves away as though to get up and leave.

"Hey, no, I never said that." Jaskier catches at her sleeve and tugs her back down onto the log. "It's just... it's a _lot_ , you know?"

Yennefer snorts. "After I've bent you over and had my way with you on no less than three separate occasions, a simple kiss is what gives you pause?"

But she does know what he means, better than she'd like. Yes, Yennefer's fucked the bard several times now, but always from behind, never with Jaskier inside her, and definitely without any kissing involved. Geralt's always been there during these times, too, as much to provide a buffer for their feelings as to share in the experience.

And there _are_ feelings there, much as it pains her to admit it. Jaskier's so _earnest_ with his affections, even when they get rebuffed (maybe even _especially_ when they get rebuffed, Yen thinks, remembering the various amusing accounts she's heard from both Jaskier and Geralt about the years prior to the two of them finally becoming an item).

There's been intimacy of many sorts between her and Jaskier, a closeness forged initially of their feelings for (and, frequently, exasperation over) their mutual lover, that's slowly blossomed into deeper support and comfort, a true partnership in nearly every sense of the word.

They've never spoken of it. There hasn't been a need to, before now. It doesn't take a mind-reader to see Jaskier's feelings for her, but he's always had the good taste to not force them onto her, or to pass them off with a joke and a grin if they do happen to come up. But...

"It hurts, doesn't it," Yennefer says. Jaskier's hand is still resting against her arm, more softly now; she takes it in both of hers, turns it over to trace the lines of his palm.

"What does?" His voice is low, hesitant, braced to parry an anticipated blow.

"Keeping it all inside yourself," Yennefer says. "All the things you feel, all the things you want to say. Like a dam that you have to keep shoring up every minute of every day, because otherwise everything behind it will come spilling out at once and destroy the world with its force."

"I would have figured you for more of the fire type, myself," Jaskier says, a smile flitting across his face.

"I am," Yennefer says. "But _you're_ definitely water. A lot less impressive, easier to write off, to not be wary of, but just as deadly, given the right circumstances."

Jaskier's eyes glow with delight. "My dear sorceress," he says, "I do believe that was almost a compliment."

"Believe what you will," Yen says lightly.

"Not to mention a very evocative and effective metaphor. I daresay you'd make a decent poet if you put your mind to it."

"And you'd make a shit mage."

Jaskier's still laughing as he bridges the last few inches between them, cups her chin in his hand, dips his head to press his lips against hers. It's warm, and soft, and almost chaste, but that small contact is enough to send a shiver of desire all through her anyway, and never mind what she'd said earlier about "allowing" him this, she wants _more_.

Jaskier makes a small, startled sound when Yennefer slips her tongue into his mouth, but doesn't pull away. Kisses her back with sudden fervor, in fact, as though he's merely been waiting for this sort of permission.

_He's_ good _at this_ , Yen thinks, a little stunned. Not that it's terribly surprising; she's seen Geralt go limp and whimpering just from the bard's mouth on his on many occasions, after all. But being on the receiving end of it is another thing entirely. Jaskier kisses like he does everything else: intently, _intensely_ , with his entire heart behind it.

They're both breathing hard when Yennefer pulls away at last. Jaskier's eyes flutter open to meet hers, pupils blown wide; it makes him look shocked, a little wild.

"Oh," he says softly. " _Oh_."

"More?" Yennefer asks.

"More," Jaskier agrees, breathless and pleased.

Their lips meet again, unhurriedly, but with growing heat. Jaskier's hand moves from resting against her chin to trace along the side of her neck, feather-light, and Yennefer groans, pulls him closer, tangles her own hand in his short, impossibly soft hair to tug his head into a more pleasing angle.

It's Jaskier who finally pulls away this time, but only so he can nuzzle along her jaw, flick his tongue against the sensitive spot just below her ear.

"Yen," he says, voice low and husky. "Oh gods, Yen, I want to... can we... will you let me...?"

"Use your words, bard," Yennefer says fondly, with a soft yank on his hair to make him look at her again. "What is it you want?"

Jaskier licks his lips, swallows audibly, but meets her eyes steadily, no guile or flinching in his gaze.

"I want to be inside you," he says simply.

The sheer candor of it makes Yennefer's cunt throb. "I think that can be arranged," she drawls, sliding her hand up his thigh to cup the bulge of his erection through his trousers. "Your tent or mine?"

Jaskier huffs and rolls his eyes. "And you say _my_ puns are terrible."

Yennefer laughs, drags him to his feet, and pulls him into the tent, stealing more kisses from those clever lips every step of the way.

It's only after they're most of the way to undressed that Yennefer takes a moment to consider the wisdom of what they're doing. Things have always been fine between them, just sharing Geralt; romance (or hell, even fucking) doesn't have to be a transitive condition, necessarily. She knows all it would take is a word from her, even now, and things could return to their accustomed comfortable tension and charged banter; Jaskier would whine about it, yes, but he'd understand, wouldn't ever even hint at the path almost taken if she didn't want him to.

But Jaskier's hair is so soft under her fingers as he helps her out of her underthings, and the little noise of delight he makes when he slips a hand between her thighs to find her wet and ready for him is so endearing it almost makes her _angry_ , and his cock is so unfairly godsdamned gorgeous that she almost, _almost_ , wants to throw him out of bed for it, but instead she wraps her hand around him and bites down on his neck just this side of too hard, enough to leave a mark that will still show later, show off where she's been, what they've been doing together, so if there had ever been any chance they could hide this liaison from Geralt, it's long gone now, and that thought, along with Jaskier's low keen of pained pleasure, sends a shivery thrill of pure _want_ coursing through her.

Yennefer pulls Jaskier down on top of her, startling a little "Oof!" out of him, and twines her legs around his hips. " _Now_ ," she says. "Like this."

Jaskier licks his lips. "Are... are you sure...?" he says. "You wouldn't rather I use my mouth first? There's my reputation to uphold here, and I have it on good authority that--"

"Fuck your reputation," Yen growls. "Or better yet, fuck _me_. Or else go toss yourself off outside while I take care of my own needs, I don't care."

Jaskier chuckles and leans down to kiss her. "How could I refuse such a politely worded request?" he whispers against her lips. "Your wish is my command."

And now he's finally, finally, sliding into her, slow and sweet, with a look of utter focus and joy on his face that Yennefer's only ever seen fleeting glimpses of before when he's making music, or making love with Geralt: like he's having a religious experience, or being shown the true meaning of the universe.

It's so intense, both his expression and the surreal bliss of his cock being inside her, that Yennefer drags him down into another kiss, because the last thing she wants right now is to _think_ , and especially not about anything as complicated and messy as the way her heart flutters just from looking at Jaskier's beautiful fucking face. He gasps into it, returns the kiss with equal fervor as his thrusts become deeper, less tentative, and Yennefer arches up to meet each one, digs her nails into his back, cries out at the sudden jolt of pleasure when he breaks away from the kiss to take her nipple into his mouth.

It doesn't last long. It wouldn't have anyway, they've both been hungry for this for far too long, but then Jaskier sneaks a hand down between them to play with her clit, and Yennefer is swearing and gasping and coming hard, and his smug look at that is quickly replaced by one of utter astonishment as he follows her mere moments later.

After, Yennefer keeps holding him, even though she doesn't have to, licks away a bead of sweat from his temple, presses her hands flat against his back to soothe away the sting of her nails, basks in the thunder of his heartbeat against her own chest: a steady knocking against the doors of her heart, requesting entry rather than demanding it.

"I'm keeping you," Yennefer tells him, combing her fingers lazily through Jaskier's hair.

He hums at that, and lifts his head to grin cheekily at her. "Seeing as how you can't get rid of me anyway..."

Yen pulls her hand away from his hair to smack his ass. "If you don't behave, I'll find a way, bard."

"Hey now, I'm _always_ on my best behavior," Jaskier says with a mock pout.

"Then our Witcher has done a shit job of training you," Yennefer says. "Yet another thing I'll have to rectify."

But she kisses him again anyway, long and slow, and Jaskier melts into it, melts into _her_ , his entire body relaxing against hers. And it feels... easy. Safe, even, like this is something they've been practicing for years already, each trusting the other to catch and hold them steady after the free-fall rush of sex.

They lie there like that for a while, side by side, trading kisses and caresses and lazy banter. Yennefer's becoming more and more interested in taking Jaskier up on his offer of oral pleasure (maybe straddling his face and making him lick every last bit of his seed out of her before she takes his cock again; he'd enjoy that just as much as she would, she thinks) when Geralt returns to their camp.

"Yen?" he calls. "Jaskier? Everything all right?"

And then, before either of them can answer, he's sticking his head into the tent, concern written on his features. Concern is quickly chased away by confusion, and then a dawning understanding, as he takes in the sight of Yennefer and Jaskier naked and curled up in bed together, and the prominent love-bite on Jaskier's neck; his nostrils flare at the scent of sex in the air that must be obvious even to ordinary senses.

"Oh," Geralt says.

"Hello, Geralt," Jaskier says brightly, with a small wave in his direction. "We haven't been eaten, if that's what you're worried about."

" _Yet_ ," Yen says, smirking.

"...Oh."

"You're welcome to join us," Yennefer continues. "After you've made a detour to the creek, of course." She gives the black ichor he's spattered with a significant look.

Geralt nods, still looking a little stunned. "Right," he says, and exits the tent.

As she shares an amused glance with Jaskier at this, Yennefer could swear she hears Geralt mutter "About fucking time" as he goes off to bathe. But maybe it's just the wind.

**Author's Note:**

> Re: the pie tag: This story was going unbelievably slowly until I realized that Yen's basically having [this reaction](https://gyzym.tumblr.com/post/48073702727/i-want-you-to-imagine-youre-at-a-dinner-party) to Jaskier internally. Not that I'd know anything about getting unreasonably mad at Joey Batey's adorable fucking face myself, of course. *innocent whistle*


End file.
